


Marines to the Rescue!!! (Episode Four)

by crimsonclad



Series: Mission Accomplished! [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-03
Updated: 2011-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:37:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonclad/pseuds/crimsonclad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marines do what they gotta do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marines to the Rescue!!! (Episode Four)

Henderson was just waking up when he heard his radio crackling on his bedside table. Jamming it into his ear, he stifled a yawn. "Henderson here."

"Henderson, it's Lorne-- sorry to get you so early, but we have a major situation on our hands."

"Wraith?" Henderson asked grimly, already shoving his feet into his BDUs.

"Oh, no-- but Sheppard's doing paperwork in his office."

"I-- _what_?"

"Yeah, I know. I figured I'd get in early, work on some requisition forms, but he was already here. He's _filling out timesheets_."

Henderson winced. "Fuck."

"Yeah. I'm going to have to stay here, keep an eye on him. You guys can handle this one, right?"

Henderson flexed his fingers, forming a powerful fist. "We're on it, sir. Henderson out."

**

One of the best things about Flores-- apart from the cookies his mom always sent on the Daedalus-- was the fact that he was just as good with computers as any of the science staff.

"So we need to be looking at surveillance footage from last night, I'm thinking," Henderson mused, watching Flores' fingers fly over the keyboard. "If he was already in his office by 0430, I think we can assume he didn't sleep-- which means something during the late hours."

"So you want footage of Sheppard, then?" Flores asked, his voice heavy.

Henderson winced. You could only watch grainy footage of your CO weeping inside a storage closet so many times without feeling like a complete heel. "No, track down McKay. Easier."

Flores hit a few keys, and then they were looking at McKay in his labs, poking at an Ancient device; McKay in the mess, shouting at Zelenka; McKay in his quarters, sorting through his sock drawer-- no, wait--

"Rewind there," Henderson said, squinting at the screen.

Flores obliged-- and yep, McKay was actually pulling a bottle of vodka out of his sock drawer. Henderson sighed.

They kept watching, but both Flores and Henderson knew what was happening next-- McKay and Sheppard met outside on a southwest balcony to toast some event no one else remembered. They were talking and laughing, hard to make out in the shadows, their movements increasinly languid as they continued to down vodka.

And then McKay said something, smiling wide, and-- yep. Sheppard started to lean in, eyes half shut.

"Well, shit," Flores sighed, and Henderson nodded as the inevitable happened-- Sheppard caught himself, eyes widening, before jumping up and running back inside, leaving McKay puzzled and drunk out on the balcony.

"Thanks man," Henderson said, clapping Flores on the shoulder. "Guess we'd better get to work."

**

Watson strolled into the physics lab with a bag in hand. He waited patiently until McKay was done shouting at someone, and then he walked over with a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, Doc, heard you weren't feeling too great. But don't worry, I brought some stuff to help you out."

McKay looked at him in confusion. "What?"

Watson lowered his voice confidentially. "You know. Hangovers can be a bitch."

McKay sputtered. "I-- did Sheppard tell you that? Are you KIDDING ME?"

Watson genially handed over the bag. "That's got everything you need-- bottled water, plenty of ibuprofen, saltines and ginger ale for the nausea. Just in case!"

"This is-- I cannot believe he-- that ASSHOLE. Sheppard is one to talk about hangovers! No, no, this is ridiculous-- he was the one who got so drunk that he, firstly, nearly _fell on top of me_ , and then, secondly, ran away to puke because he can't hold his liquor. I mean, I lived in RUSSIA, I think I can have a few swallows of vodka without having a fit of the vapors. Lt. Col. LIGHTWEIGHT, on the other hand--"

Watson just smiled blandly.

**

Flores gave a thumbs up in Lorne's direction before hustling into Sheppard's office with a distracted air. "Colonel, sir, I've been reviewing a few reports of city maintenance, and I have some concerns I'd like to discuss with you-- if I may?" he asked, gesturing to Sheppard's computer.

Sheppard waved vaguely. He looked terrible-- dark circles under his eyes, his clothes from the night before wrinkled and vaguely askew. "Go ahead."

Flores felt a pang of sympathy, then turned his attention to the network drives. "Oh-- oh dear, I've _completely accidentally_ tapped into the surveillance system-- gosh--"

A clear image of McKay yelling at Watson in the physics lab popped up onscreen. Flores noticed Sheppard flinching, but then he turned up the volume.

 _"that ASSHOLE. Sheppard is one to talk about hangovers! No, no, this is ridiculous-- he was the one who got so drunk that he, firstly, nearly FELL ON TOP OF ME, and then, secondly, ran away to puke because he can't hold his liquor. I mean--"_

Flores closed the video feed. "Sorry about that, sir. My mistake."

But Sheppard wasn't paying any attention to him, and there was a quiet smile lurking around the corners of his mouth. "I guess McKay thought I was...falling over drunk. Or something."

"That definitely seems to be what he thinks!" Flores said encouragingly.

"Okay, uh, send me an email about that city maintenance stuff-- I have to..." Sheppard trailed off as he slipped out of his office.

**

Everyone was nervously waiting around in the barracks lounge when Watson reported in twenty minutes later. "Just left the physics lab-- Sheppard was drinking McKay's ginger ale and calling him an alcoholic."

Flores sighed in relief before jumping up to give Henderson a solid high five, feeling Morin's hands clapping on his shoulders in congratulations.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!


End file.
